Disclaimer: If you've seen them on the show, they aren't mine. They belong to Dick Wolf. I'm just borrowing them.

This chapter takes place during the episode Guilt. Again, AU. Warning for M rated content.

Please review for chapter three!

Alex's cell phone rings in the middle of the night. Trying not to wake Michael, she crawls out of bed and tiptoes to the door to retrieve it.

"Lex?" murmurs Michael sleepily. "Is it morning?"

"No. You can go back to sleep," she replies softly. She flips open her cell phone and walks out into the hallway. "Cabot."

"Alex, it's Liv."

Alex's eyes widen. Olivia doesn't call her in the middle of the night unless it's an emergency. Has something happened? Is she hurt? Her heart speeds up. "What happened?"

"It's Sam Cavanaugh," said Olivia, a little hesitance creeping into her voice. Slight as it is, Alex catches it and flinches.

"What about him?"

"He tried to commit suicide last night."

Alex sucks in her breath. Suddenly, she can hardly breathe. She was one of the last – maybe the last – person to see him alive. She'd offered him a ride home but he had refused. She should have insisted, should have taken better care of him, should have stuck around longer, should have made sure he was all right. "Oh, my God," she breathes.

Her world is spinning. She's talked to victims before, victims who later turned up dead, but she's invested so much in this. It marked the day she truly gave herself up to the job and let her passion supersede her distance. Sam's attempted suicide comes as a personal affront.

"Come on down to Mercy General, okay? Elliot and the captain are here with me," says Olivia.

"Yeah," agrees Alex, too dazed to even string together a full sentence. "I'm on my way."

She hangs up the phone and rushes back to her bedroom. Too concentrated on the task at hand to even worry about Michael and how he doesn't like his sleep to be disturbed, she rummages through her closet, looking for something clean to wear. It doesn't matter if it's not a neatly-pressed business suit; even a pair of ratty old sweatpants will do. Today isn't a day to focus on her image. Today is a day to focus on saving a young boy's life.

"Lex," growls Michael, sitting up in bed.

Alex cringes at the nickname and immediately realizes her mistake. She's made too much noise, been too conspicuous, and she's going to be in for it now. But right now, she doesn't have time for this. She's focussed on one thing and one thing only – getting to Mercy General as fast as she can.

"Where are you going?" he demands, switching on the bedside lamp.

She almost says, "Out," but she knows better. The old Alex would have given a vague, brief answer in a tone sharp enough to turn off any man from bothering her any further. But this new Alex is more timid, less brave. Weaker, even. So she swallows the words and instead tells him the truth. "The case I've been working on – the victim just tried to commit suicide. I'm going down to Mercy General to check on him."

Michael leans against the headboard and says calmly, as if this is a statement of fact, "No, you're not."

Alex raises an eyebrow. "I'm sorry, Michael, but this is important. Olivia and Elliot need me there. I'll be back later."

In a soft, dangerous tone, Michael repeats, "No, you're not. You're going to come back to bed with me."

"Michael," she protests, a newfound bravado igniting inside her. She's never argued back before. He's done a good job at breaking her down, but this is too important. "I need to go. I'm sorry."

"Oh," he says bitterly. "So the job is more important than me?"

"No," she replies quickly. "Of course not. It's just –"

Michael reaches out to grasp her tightly by the arm and pulls her toward him. "You love me?"

"Yes, yes," she assures him. She'll say whatever he wants her to say right now as long as he'll let her go down to the hospital. She needs to see Sam Cavanaugh – and maybe she needs to see Olivia too.

"Show me," he challenges her.

Alex just stares at him. She doesn't have time for this right now and snaps, "How do you propose I do that?"

He smacks her hard across the face. "Don't you ever talk to me again like that, you little slut. Now come and show me how much you love me. Come and make love to me."

She doesn't want to. Right now, she's repulsed by him, and she really needs to get going. So for the first time ever since she met him, she works up her courage and says, "No."

He's about to slap her again but his hand stills in the air. "What did you just say to me?"

Her audacity increasing, she repeats, "I said no and no means no." She's not going to take this anymore. She doesn't have to.

But her nerve evaporates the moment he yanks her roughly onto the bed. "You're going to pay for that, you little whore," he hisses into her ear. "You'll spread your legs for almost anyone, but not for me. I'm not good enough for you?" He starts to undress her.

Alex is trembling violently as he rips off her clothes. She retreats into herself, hiding somewhere inside her own skin where no one can hurt her. She makes her body go limp and stops trying to fight it. The struggle is futile and it only further excites him. She lets him take what he wants and bites down on her lower lip, trying to suppress her screams as he touches her and forces her into things she wishes he wouldn't make her do. It hurts so much, but she's used to it by now.

This is why she's so good at her job now. She understands how every single victim feels, the pain, the shame, the downright humiliation that they can never rid themselves of, the dirtiness that remains no matter how many showers they take. The grime can't be washed away because it's on the inside. It's within them, a scar that will never heal because others keep ripping off the scab each time it gets close.

Well, I guess I'm not getting anywhere near the hospital tonight.

I know this was kind of a . . . graphic . . . chapter, but please, no flames. However, reviews and constructive criticism are more than welcome.